From the Ground Up
by Sturmgeschuts
Summary: The death of King Delita left Ivalice in a sorry state. Seven years after his demise, civil war and lawlessness grip the land. A group of unlikely heroes fight for survival, or enjoyment, as they rebuild Ivalice "From the Ground Up"
1. The shipment

'Allo folks! I'm back. I'm sorry that I deleted "Degenerators and their effects," but it had to be done. My computer crashed, and the half-finished chapter 3 was lost completely. I forgot all of the details, but after some work with Wordsonscreen and Therederas, I've found a way to make it up to you.

(I do not own Final Fantasy Tactics or anything else affiliated with it. This is a work of fanfiction; it is free and not to be paid for. Contrary to my previous writings, _Italics are shouting! _Underlined is stressed words.)

Taking place seven years after the death of King Delita and Queen Ovelia, the land of Ivalice is ravaged by civil war, as the surviving nobility fight for control of the throne. The Church of Glabados is trying to gain the people's trust after the disaster that befell Mullonde, and the Templarate has become the newest form of law enforcement. With all of the fighting, criminals have grown in number, and mercenaries are more in demand than ever.

Amongst the chaos, a fallen noble seeking to bring honour to the family she failed, inadvertently brings about a new age of peace to Ivalice. Though to do so, she must overcome her own lack of confidence, her strange and murderous allies, and her hatred of what she has become; a Bandit.

0o0o0o0o0o0

**From the Ground Up**

Rain is supposed to be a sign of luck, or so the preachers often told the people, but in the mountains it's a whole different scenario. Rain makes the jagged rocks slick and footing hard to gain, the road turns to mud, slowing the convoy of wagons already encumbered with tall stacks of grain and rice. Wind makes the canopies flutter and serves only to bring an unpleasant chill to those who had the task of delivering the shipment. Each raindrop is like a sharp needle against the skin and with lowering temperatures, the area would be frozen over by the morning. Visibility was cut down to forty yards, ending in a wall of water. This was not the image of a lucky day.

Thirteen men and women of different origins, race, and even reasons for being there, clutching both sword and cloak close, and taking in what little sanctuary both offered. Five chocobos, of which four were pulling carts, their feathers drenched and their talons caked with the mud from the road, caused the only sound other than the rain in the form of the occasional "Wark!" or "Kweh!". On the left was a massive cliff ascending to the heavens and limiting their manoeuvrability. On the right, dark as the night sky was a steep drop that would spell certain doom to any poor soul that lost its footing on the black, unforgiving rock of Duguera Pass. The rain endlessly came, drenching the group through their armour. The canvas on the wagons would hold out most of the rain, but the edges would be soaked by the time it was unpacked.

Amongst the group, the knight D'Altine questions her reasons for being here, as well as the reason for this shipment. There was no food crisis in the east, and there were established trade routes in the lowlands that were created to eliminate the need to cross the mountains. Also, normally the regular military or even the Glabados Templarate would escort such shipments to their destinations, not mercenaries. Were the times such that the regular military is stretched too thin to take care of the simplest of tasks? And why the decision to take the pass? This place was only ever used in times of war or disaster. It would probably be safer to try the lowlands in the case of the latter, as you can ford the waters in a flood, and a tornado or hurricane would make high altitude more dangerous.

One of the men in the front of the convoy rode atop a chocobo while the rest of the group was on foot. Being the commander, he was in charge of the shipment. Raising his hand, he signalled for the convoy to stop, putting the knight's thoughts on hold for the time being. He barked a set of orders to the group: "Servan, Ergoll, and D'altine; to the front. Holwren and Klim; guard the rear. The rest of you, guard the wagons with your lives!" Urging the chocobo forward, the commander drew his weapon and proceeded some thirty yards ahead of the group and, shouting to a rock formation ahead of him, exposed the reason for the sudden stop. "You no longer have the element of surprise! Come out and state your intention and we may yet spare your lives!"

His answer came in the form of a crossbow bolt to the throat.

Back in the convoy, the mercenary group drew their weapons and took defensive positions around the wagons. Shouting from the rear indicated that the enemy had somehow managed to flank them, though seemingly impossible given the terrain. That startling revelation caused a brief lapse in the forward guard's defence and several men in green cloaks charged from the rocks ahead of them, bearing no crest and flying no banner; bandits.

The sudden charge caught them off their guard as the man named Servan was cleaved in half by a scantily clad monster of a man with a massive axe. Ergoll rushed the man, but was shoved aside and off the cliff by a backhanded blow. D'Altine raised her shield against the man and braced herself, as she was left fighting him and an armoured man with a short sword and shield. The monstrous man wound up a swing, but a gunshot from the center of the convoy hit him in the bicep and splattered it over D'Altine's shield. The man let out a roar and charged past D'Altine towards the chemist who'd shot him.

At the back of the convoy, the rearguard Holwren and Klim, twin dragoons, held the enemy at bay. One man tried to lunge under Klim's spear and get him with his knife, but was stopped by an arrow from atop one of the wagons, where an archer crouched and knocked another arrow onto his string. Another man with a shield and sword brushed aside Holwren's spear and got a lucky swing at the dragoon's arm, shattering the bone and slashing the straps for his pauldron. Klim dealt the man a blow to the head with his shield, knocking him over the edge of the cliff and onto some rocks below with a crunch.

In the center of the convoy, the large man with the axe charged towards a pair of sisters, one of which was reloading the pistol that had shot the man. The other sister readied her flail and charged the man. The large man brought the flat side of his axe to bear upon the top of her, crushing the bones in her right shoulder and ribcage. She screamed and fell to the ground, staring up at the man was about to finish her off, but it never came. The chemist had finished reloading and had shot the man in the temple, saving her sibling.

At the front of the convoy D'Altine faced off against the man with the short sword. He had gotten a good jab at her helmet and had sealed the visor shut. "Pretty low of you to attack provisions for the villagers; have you no sense of honour?" D'Altine didn't know why she even bothered trying to appeal to the man; he was a bandit after all.

The man seemed astonished at this, and he began to shout at her over the rain. "You don't know what you're carrying? _You don't know that you are blindly transporting_--" The man was cut off mid-sentence by a bullet from the center of the convoy.

D'Altine turned to the origin of the gunshot and saw the woman who had saved her from the man with the axe scramble to reload. D'Altine was grateful to the woman, but she wished the shot had come a few seconds later so she could have heard what the man had to say. With the commander dead, Klim took over and called them into the center of the convoy. D'Altine shuffled towards them, but she was a little shaken from the blow to the head. She could feel a warm fluid running down the side of her face from the point of impact.

"_What's everyone's status?"_ Klim shouted over the drawl of the rain. After the battle it was confirmed that three were dead, two were seriously injured, four had escaped serious injury, and the other four were just wagon drivers, who had hidden from view during the fight. Klim shook his head and issued a new set of orders to the group. _"Ready the chocobos! We'll double time it to our destination and come back for our comrades bodies when the rain lets up!"

* * *

_

Later, at the drop-off point, the remnants of the mercenary band sat in a covered courtyard outside the manse of the local lord and his administration. Fine steel and glass kept the water off those below, causing the rain to create a rhythmic drumming sound. Down a sloping hill to the left of the courtyard one might see a small village if not for the rain obscuring the view.

D'Altine sat stiffly as she watched her comrades have their wounds healed by the chemist. There were charred feathers on the ground and a few empty bottles, indicating the seriousness of the injuries. She hadn't mentioned her injury as it was not important enough to distract the chemist from the more dire cases. She wondered how she ended up here ... something to do with her days in the military....

* * *

D'Altine sat in a chair in front of the campaign officer in charge of the area. The salt-stained tent sported various tears around the corners, and a gnarled desk sat between the tent's occupants. The coastal region had been subject to bandit attacks in the recent months, so they had been sent in to clean up the mess. D'Altine had performed poorly during a routine patrol where they had been attacked by a pack of wild Coerls. Due to a lack of proper communication, three of the members of her patrol had been severely injured.

The officer noted how this seemed to dishearten her. She sat hunched over, staring at the floor of the tent. The officer didn't want the already low morale of the men to be affected by her sorry state, so he decided to cheer her up. "Don't worry, it wasn't that bad."

D'Altine lifted her gaze from her lap and met the officer's eyes and mumbled, "Three men were injured because of me. I should not be allowed to lead a patrol anymore."

The officer decided that she needed to be shown that she was more capable than most of the other squad leaders he'd seen, so he decided to mention how her command was better than her brother's. "It's an improvement over what your family has offered in the past," He noted that her expression changed suddenly, but it was of no concern. "Your older brother Kurig on the other hand; now he was a disgrace! Not only did he get himself killed; but his entire unit was slaughtered after he led them into a trap! All he had to do was follow--" D'Altine screamed in anger, cutting him off. She shoved the desk out from between them, and launched herself at the man.

D'Altine began to pummel the man with her fists. _"Don't insult him!" _Tears were streaming down her face as she screamed at the increasingly bloodied man. "_He was a good man, but he was sent to die in a pointless battle by bastards like you!"_

Such commotion was not unnoticed, however. Alerted by the shouting, two guards came in from outside and, after taking in the scene before them, detained D'Altine and held her down. One of them called for a chemist.

A chemist arrived within seconds and rushed over to the bloodied commander. After checking for vital signs, he signalled to the guards that the injured man was alive.

The guards acknowledged this and hauled D'Altine off to the prisoner tent, which was already near-full with captured bandits in a barred enclosure. One of the guards told her to stay, "You'll remain in here for now, we'll deal with you when the general comes by." He kicked her in the back of the knee and closed the gate.

* * *

A week later, a military panel of officers was brought to order, in regards to a court-martial against D'Altine for the assault of a ranking officer. "D'Altine Eshuan, before I carry out your sentence, is there anything you'd like to say in your defence?" The military judge sat across the table filled with high-ranking military officials. There had been a trial, and D'Altine had pleaded guilty; sparing her life, but forcing her out of the military.

"Nothing in my defence, sir, as I have already pleaded guilty ... but there is something I'd like to say," There were whispers among the officers, in the end the judge nodded. "Thank you, sir. Then I would like to make an announcement. I, D'Altine Eshuan, do hereby give up my surname to preserve the honour of the Eshuan noble house."

Murmurs amongst the men at the table ensued, finally the judge responded with their reply. "That is acceptable. All dishonours towards the noble house Eshuan are negated, and all charges are directed solely towards the guilty party." The judge slammed down a heavy oak gavel and called the case to a close. "Please return all issued equipment and leave the camp immediately or you will be treated as a trespasser."

* * *

That was seven months ago, since then D'Altine joined a mercenary group and that had brought her here. Leaning back, she pulled off her helmet revealing light brown, asymmetrical hair cut off above the shoulders. She reached a hand up and felt her hair to find it damp from the rain and slightly sticky from the blood on her head. She examined her helmet in her hands; the hole was right beside the hinge for the visor, effectively sealing it shut. Apparently the blood in her hair and on her face was enough to get the chemists attention, who strolled over with a potion in hand. D'Altine tried to wave her off and make her attend to her other patients, but the chemist pointed across the courtyard behind her, indicating that they were bandaged up until they could find a priest to repair the damaged bones. D'Altine submitted and let the woman go about her work.

D'Altine watched as the wagons were guided into the cullis gate across the courtyard. Then she realized that they were going to the local lord's manor and not the village; something was wrong.

* * *

The rain had finally come to an end, and D'Altine and the other mercenaries were on their way back to The Magick City of Gariland. They were at the location where they had fought the bandits earlier, where they had lost the troupe leader. D'Altine stepped over the upper half of Servan who was embedded into the mud, frost creeping along the edges of his clothing. It took a great deal of effort not to vomit at the sight...though the sight of the commander was also unpleasant. D'Altine reached the corpse of the large man, his axe behind him, and his brain matter scattered amongst the rocks along the road. Now approaching the end of the area, D'Altine stooped over to inspect the body of a brigand with an arrow in his forehead. The sound of groaning from the cliff ledge on her left caught her attention.

Over the edge of the cliff, on a slab of stone jutting out of the rocky face, was one of the bandits, his blood slowly leaking out of the corner of his mouth. He gazed up at the figure above him...it was not reinforcements or a search party...no, it was of the group that put him in this state. The figure began to climb down to him but he waved it off, trying to get some peace in his death.

D'Altine raised her visor to get a better look at the man; his armour was crushed to the point of actually compressing his chest and legs. His helmet sat beside him, having slipped off on impact. D'Altine couldn't help herself; there was something she had to ask him. "One of your comrades tried to tell me something before he died, something about what we were shipping. If it was not grain and rice, then what was it?" She kept her voice down to a whisper, as her allies would probably just kill him there.

The man coughed up some blood, gasped for air, and answered, "Ye don' know? Aye...there was grains and rice...but not enough for a village...that shipment--" he coughed violently, splattering D'Altine's face with his blood. "Ye ignorant fool...transportin' the largest shipment of opium North of Lionel!" He coughed again, the speech too much for his crushed lungs.

D'Altine felt like she had been kicked in the gut. The smuggling of opium was one of the biggest problems since the collapse of the monarchy. To have participated in such a crime...it just felt so wrong to her. She wanted to bring honour to her family, not disgrace it even further! There was one more thing that she had to ask the man though.... "Who sent you?"

The man sighed like the dead, "I am Klider Maw...Lieutenant Commander of the Griffon Knights...of Lionel. We were sent by...Cardinal Beowulf to stop this shipment...from reaching its destination." He reached out and grasped the cloth between D'Altine's greaves and boots. "Please...grant me the right...to an honourable death." He coughed onto her boot once more, gasping for air.

After hearing that, D'Altine didn't know what to say, she was horrified. Not only had she smuggled opium for a corrupt lord, but she had helped murder men of honour. She could feel tears in the corners of her eyes as she spoke the last words the man below her would ever hear, "Anguish not...I will grant you that honour." D'Altine choked backed her tears and drew her blade, levelled it to the man's neck, and plunged it into his throat. Before D'Altine climbed up to the road, she spoke to the man, the wind, and herself, "I'm sorry."

* * *

Later, in the Magick City of Gariland, D'Altine sat at the bar to a worn-down tavern on the outskirts of town, the upper half of the building was in shambles, but down a flight of stairs, one would enter a dimly, yet beautifully lit barroom. Oak countertops and paneling stained an off-burgundy shade of red, small covered lamps lining the walls at scarce intervals, and behind the bar, two massive ale kegs managed by a one-armed, grizzled bartender. Here she drank away her sorrows...or at least she tried to, but she had difficulty lifting the glass...as if it were stuck to the counter. The one-armed bartender put a pitcher of water down in front of her, as well as an aged handkerchief. She looked up the scarred man with confusion, "I did not order this." She stated bluntly, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Tis' from that woman over there." He pointed to a woman in a priestess cloak-turned-overcoat. The woman waved her over, winking with her only eye.

D'Altine wasn't sure what was going on, but she decided to play along. She picked up the water and handkerchief and dragged her feet over to the woman. "Is there something you want?"

The woman nodded, "I couldn't help but notice tears on your face most fair. Care to share what has put you into despair?" The woman chuckled to herself. "It really is an awful sight, so please explain to me your plight."

"Well...." D'Altine hesitated, but decided to tell the woman anyway...after all, what harm could it do? So she began to tell her story, from noble origins to her current slump. What harm could it do?

0o0o0o0o0o0

What harm indeed? Well we'll find out some other time. Anyway, this is meant to be a comedy, but that will be more apparent in later chapters.


	2. Risky Endeavors

There is a higher chance of comedy in this one, though it seems that I had a great deal of serious moments in the first chapter. I apologise but it seems that there will be a great deal of seriousness mixed in with everything else; I hope that does not discourage you from reading.

I should point out that this fiction uses the spellings from the PSP remake of Final Fantasy Tactics.

* * *

Chapter 2: Risky Endeavours

* * *

Whatever had come over D'Altine? She'd just spilled forth her entire life story to a stranger that hadn't even introduced herself. She was on her fourth glass of water, meaning she wasn't intoxicated, and yet her tongue flapped loosely. She had just finished the telling of her most recent humiliation; the blind murder of several Gryphon Knights and the delivery of a large opium shipment. Partway through her story it had occurred to her that, should this person deem it necessary to call the guards, she would suffer yet another black mark on her record. Focusing on the positive point to the blunder, she excluded any reference to her noble upbringing, instead only mentioning select details from her military career. She decided that if she was to be imprisoned she would at least have the name of the one to turn her in. "Well, Miss, it would seem I have neglected to ask of you your name," She stated bluntly, changing the topic of conversation.

"You wish to know my name? With yours it is the same, so let us play a little game." A hearty smile was plastered on the woman's face as she spoke. "I'll speak a truth and two lies, pick out the honesty and you'll get your prize."

D'Altine nodded, but she remained suspicious of the woman, something felt...wrong about her.

"I live a life devoid of strife. I am fat, and hard to look at. In cascades or a flood, my favourite thing in life is blood." The statement ended as if the one-eyed priest was singing.

D'Altine was certain the second was false, unless her eyesight was fading, the first seemed unlikely due to the presence of the sword on the woman's hip, leaving a single option, unlikely given the demeanor of the woman. "It seems unlikely but-the third option?"

The woman smiled in a terrifying way once the answer was given. "You guessed the truth so I shall yield, my given name; Karunee Offield." Once again she spoke with the singsong voice. "You played my game, but for you the same, we'll play for your name."

D'Altine was increasingly unsure of the woman in front of her, this stranger who had listened to her story and now seemed untrustworthy to the knight. "Err...I am male. I am afraid of cats. I enjoy drawing."

The woman seemed lost in thought for a moment before giving her answer. "I regard it with considerable awe, for it is a surprise, you like to draw." A wicked smiled crossed Karunee's face, for she could tell her deduction was correct. "Your name, if you'd please, and do not tease."

Had D'Altine been a less tolerant person she probably would have asked Karunee to stop rhyming by now, but she decided to play along. "D'Altine, I haven't a family name."

"Well, Miss D'Altine, you say you're in a bind? I can be of great help you might just find." Karunee fiddled with a pocket on her robe-turned-jacket and extracted an orange coloured piece of tanned leather wrapped around a jawbone. "Let us stop the games for now." Karunee dropped her rhyming completely. "Now, you say you were a mercenary, one troubled by the constant switching of sides and the blind contracts, unable to find your own way in the world." She turned the object over in her hand, showing the stitches holding the leather onto the jawbone. "This strange object is actually a symbol of freedom in both mannerisms and thought." She passed the object to D'Altine.

Receiving the leather bound bone from the one-eyed woman, D'Altine was shocked to realize that both the bone and the leather were that of a human! She could not bear to look at it and yet, she could not bring herself to drop it. "This is-Where did you get this?"

Karunee chuckled at the horrified woman before her. "That used to be the symbol of one of the largest bandit clans in Ivalice; sadly I am the only survivor." Karunee twirled a stray hair while staring off into space. "I did not become a bandit by choice, but the freedom to pursue my desires is what made me remain so. And before you call the guards I must remind you that not all bandits are evil...they are merely living life the way they choose; picking their own sides."

'Picking their own sides' was a phrase that began repeating itself in D'Altine's head over and over. "So, you are suggesting I should become a bandit?" The knight brooded over it, staring into the water pitcher, but sudden realization dawned upon her. _"Are you insane?"_ She stood abruptly as she shouted, sending her stool crashing to the floor, causing the barman to flinch. _"I'm trying to bring honour to my family name, not drag it through the mire!"_

At this point the barman stepped in, reaching over the counter and putting his hand between the two, surprising them because they had forgotten he was even there. "There'll be no fightin' in 'ere! Calm down an' listen ter what she 'as ter say," he turned his gaze upon Karunee next, "an' you release whatever magicks you 'ave 'oldin' that woman's ale to the counter top, I'm expectin' another patron an' that glass is blockin' the only spot left." The man's accent wasn't much thicker than the tension in the bar, which was indeed saying something.

D'Altine glanced at the drink further down the counter, having forgotten it entirely. "I didn't realise...I must be losing my mind, I should have figured it out." She turned back to face Karunee, deciding that she might as well listen to what the woman had to say. "Fine, I shall listen to what you have to say, but only because my options grow sparse."

Karunee nodded and gestured to the glass, which suddenly slid down the counter to her. She handed the now stale ale off to the barman and began her explanation. "There are three types of 'banditry' in Ivalice; first is the cutthroats, bands of murderous bastards who give bandits the bad name that you are no doubt familiar with. Second are the privateers, bandit clans sanctioned by lords or states in order to protect their investments. Finally, the third group is what one might call...vigilantes; groups of men and women following their own code of honour to bring the true criminals to justice."

"Would ye like an example?" The barman spoke up, surprising both the women who had yet again forgotten about him. "Durin' the 'War o' the Lions' there were 'ports of a group goin' around, killin' off 'portant people all over the bloody place. What the 'ports won' tell ye is that the folks they were killin' weren't only leaders in the war, they were causin' the whole mess 'cause they wanted power." The barman began cleaning glasses behind the counter, readying up for more patrons. "Some o' the more renowned folks ter be killed was the 'tire Beoluve fam'ly, killed by their youngest son 'cause o' 'is older brother Dycedarg; killed 'is own father that bastard, robbed us o' one o' the greatest 'eroes from the Fifty Years War." The barman finished cleaning the last glass and walked up to the women at the counter. "Ramza Beoluve was no 'eretic, 'e was a 'ero, one o' the last men o' honour in Ivalice."

Something clicked in the back of D'Altine's head. "If the reports say he was a heretic, how exactly would you know otherwise?"

"He knows because he was one of the people who traveled with him." All three of the people at the bar were startled by the sound of a fourth voice, as no one had heard him enter. "It's near time you replaced the stairs Ladd, I almost made a sound coming down." At the base of the stairs there now stood a man dressed in rugged green clothing with something that looked like it used to be a woodland animal on his head.

"Ah, Osrich, welcome. I didn't 'ear ye-" The barman, now designated 'Ladd' paused as he noticed the hat. After a few seconds of staring, he burst into laughter. "What the 'ell are you wearin' on yer 'ead?"

"I'll have you know this is a hat made from a racoon, a rare creature of the distant east." Osrich marched up and took the remaining seat at the bar. "So what brought up the subject of my old classmate from the Akademy?"

Karunee was the one to explain. "Ah, well I was explaining to this young woman that not all of the bandits in Ivalice are evil." She snatched the jawbone from D'Altine's hands and shoved it into her pocket; the other woman was too focused on the newcomer to notice. "The barman, er, Ladd was it? Anyway, he gave Ramza as an example of a vigilante."

"Ah, I suppose we were...not just Ramza, Ladd, and I either. There were twenty-four of us in total." He took off his cap to reveal scruffy brown hair that looked to have been recently washed. "I was probably the unluckiest of us all. I was the only one who didn't come out of that mess alive." He began gazing at a strange ring on his left hand; the evil aura that emitted from it was unmistakeable.

"What do you mean? You seem plenty alive to me." D'Altine showed her naïve side with this comment.

Osrich chuckled. "I suppose I would to someone not attuned to magicks. Here, let me show you what I mean." Osrich reached up and put his hands on either side of his head and, with a sharp twist, pulled his head clean off his shoulders and placed it on the counter.

"B-by the gods!" As if by instinct, D'Altine's hand grasped the hilt of her sword in a fighting stance.

"Yer 'ead comes off now? When'd this 'appen?" Ladd was completely unfazed by the spectacle before him.

"I wasn't paying attention while riding a chocobo, a low branch knocked it clean off." His body made a whooshing gesture over his neck where his head should be. "I find it's a neat little trick to scare the ruffians off, though my neck is a bit stiff for a bit after I put it back on." His body picked up his head and placed it onto his shoulders, and with the sickly sound of magically mended flesh it was reattached. He reached to the back of his neck and began massaging it with a pained look. "Hmm. I think I'm getting used to it though, it's not as sore as the last time I took it off."

"Y-you're one of the undead?" D'Altine still hadn't taken her hand off her sword hilt. "What confidence you have, walking amongst the living. How can you be so calm about it?"

"Undeath is something that takes getting used to, and it takes acceptance, a great deal of it." He held up the hand that bore the ring and showed it to D'Altine. "When you're as unlucky as I am, something like this is just another daily occurrence; this ring is what's keeping me alive, and it's the only real luck I've ever had. But enough about me, why is it that the topic of bandits was brought up?"

"Well, Miss D'Altine here is in a bit of a slump," Karunee seemed to be taking things in stride, "She was a mercenary who got sick of being tricked into wrongdoing, so she is currently unemployed and on a quest to bring honour to a family name that she does not have."

"H-how did-" D'Altine realised her mistake and smacked her forehead. "Aagh, I let it slip!"

"Yes, you did." Karunee chuckled at the frustrated expression on the other woman's face and continued. "My suggestion, though not outright stated, was to become a bandit; vigilante if one prefers."

"I see that you're hard of sight seeing as you have only one eye, but can you not see the 'highborn' presence about her?" Osrich pointed to D'Altine without looking. "This woman is of noble blood, there is no way she'd agree to it!"

"State of mind goes beyond birth," argued Karunee, "I was of the clergy, doesn't that make me an unlikely candidate?"

Osrich began massaging his temple in frustration "Did you not hear yourself say the word honour? Something that is near impossible to gain as a bandit."

"If one can endeavour towards something then it can be achieved." Karunee spouted indignantly.

"Endeavour? Don't you realise that the obsession with 'endeavour' was what caused the rise of the mad king Delita?" Osrich began setting up a solid argument with that statement. "You can endeavour all you like, it takes divine intervention to-"

"I'll do it." The room went instantly quiet when those words were spoken drawing the gaze of all in the room. "I will become a bandit, but only because it is my last option." D'Altine had her eyes cast towards the floor.

"Oh brother; look at that, you've gone and given her a purpose." Osrich sat down on his stool with a thud. "Fine. Count me in then, someone's got to keep her from getting herself killed."

"Weren't you arguing against it a moment ago?" Karunee raised her eyebrow. "Changed your mind too suddenly, I think."

"I said she wouldn't, I didn't say she shouldn't. I'm just going with the flow of things." Osrich sighed. "Maybe something interesting will happen, though I want no hand in executive matters."

"You won't? But I can't start a bandit clan like that, let alone lead it!" D'Altine showed her pessimistic side with this statement.

"Then I shall do it; I am the most logical choice anyway, I am the only one with any experience in the matter." Karunee declared.

"Err...I'm not sure I can entirely trust you right now." D'Altine edged away from the woman. "You were, after all, a bandit."

"Normally I wouldn't argue with such logic, but you should understand that telling me your life story is generally a sign of trust. Plus, you trust this man whom you met after me, and claims to have been a heretic and is proven to be one of the undead." Such reasoning would convince the royal court...were the members of said court not trying to tear each other's throats out, but that is unrelated to this barroom discussion.

"I, uh...oh." D'Altine was defeated. "I guess you have a point, but don't do anything irrational; I don't intend on dying a pointless death."

Ladd added his own contribution to the conversation. "Humm... Peaked my int'rest ye 'ave, what say ye ter this; 'come famous, and I'll lend ye my arm. I may not look it, but I've a great deal o' experience at the forge. 'Sides, I'm sure ye might be in need o' an experienced barkeep, bein' bandits an' all." All eyes were on the one armed barman now. "I was a 'eretic too, not much in this worl' that I ain't ready for."

The room became awkwardly silent, no one was particularly sure of the next step.

"So what happens now?" D'Altine was the one to ask this question. "We've a prospective lead for help, and three members, but I am unsure about how a bandit clan operates in the beginning... What do we do...boss?" The last word was forced to emphasize her intent to follow and not lead.

"Just call me Karunee, it's easier that way." Sighed the woman. Straightening up, the white mage came up with an idea and voiced it instead of thinking. "We need to test our strength against the authorities to bring in potential members, thus we need to do something risky."

"I don't get it, how do we bring in members by testing our strength...and what do you mean by risky?" Osrich gave Karunee a sideways glance as he said this.

"Well, potential members will be drawn to a clan that stand up to the authorities," Karunee noted the quizzical looks she was receiving before she continued, "so we need to take a risk and attack them directly. I've heard rumours that a caravan belonging to these authorities will be passing through the weald to the west of Dorter; I say we ambush them."

D'Altine thought this was a bad idea, or at least not very well thought out. "Is it wise to attack them with three people? And who are these authorities you speak of?"

"You've got a lot of guts, picking them as your opponent; you must have a great deal of confidence in your ability to wield that sword of yours." Osrich stood up and brought himself face to face with Karunee. "I spent years fighting them; I assure you that the Glabados templarate is not an organization to be trifled with."

"T-the templarate? Are you insane?" D'Altine had heard of the powers of the templar, and their hatred to bandits and the like.

"I'm glad you picked a corrupt organization, but facing them in battle is no laughing matter." Osrich knew from firsthand experience; after all, it was the templarate soldiers who had put him in his state of undeath.

"No one has gotten anywhere from cowering in fear of titles or the ability of dead men. The templarate has grown weak from its own self-righteousness, making them vulnerable." Karunee was bursting with confidence, and thus began the plan to assault a templarate caravan to prove their ability.

* * *

Much later, in the swampy landscape of the weald, D'Altine hid in the bushes, a crossbow in hand, awaiting the signal from Karunee when she stopped the caravan... Of course, that was if she was able to get them to stop. How would a one-eyed woman with the look of a mercenary healer stop a caravan?

Across the road, Karunee held the answer to D'Altine's question in her hands. Contrary to her old robe, she held an intact white robe of the clergy, large enough to cover her own clothing and conceal her weapon. Upon spotting the caravan, she pulled the robe over her head and straightened it out, taking on the look of a priestess who'd lost her eye in an accident, or at least she would if she wore an innocent look. When the caravan approached she stepped from her hiding spot behind a rock; wearing her robe as well as the most honest look she could muster... Which apparently worked as the head of the caravan signalled for them to stop.

D'Altine went over the instructions; upon hearing the signal, use the crossbow to eliminate any ranged units in the enemy formation. From the looks of it, the closest to a ranged unit among them was a dragoon wearing a most impractical suit of golden armour. D'Altine had long since abandoned the gray cloak of the mercenary and now donned the trademark green cloak of the bandit, which offered excellent camouflage, but made her feel cowardly.

Down the road, near the middle of the caravan, Osrich prepared his own little surprise for the guards in the center. He held onto the surprise with a careful grip, for holding it too tightly could set it off. He gazed upon the red orb in his hand, anticipating the start of the fight...this would not end well for him, it never does.

* * *

Among the formation, chatting with a white mage named Rosary, Gwyff Ocheld marched along at the pace of those around him; the only thing preventing him from trying to escape was the white mage beside him. "So Rosary, what are we transporting anyway?"

"They're supplies for the workers rebuildin' Mullonde, though I expected more than just food." Rosary sighed, holding her cross close to her. She'd had a vision that morning warning her against travelling on this day, but the templarate would have naught of it, instead ignoring her. "Can't ya think of somethin' more interestin' to talk about?"

"Well how about your speech pattern? You still haven't told me why you talk the way you do, even though the chapel matron scolds you." Gwyff hoisted his helmet from his bag and held it in his arms, he suspected something was afoot.

"That's 'cause I didn't start out as clergy. I was a farmer's daughter but the church dragged me off, so here I am." She sighed. "If I had the chance I'd drop the whole 'heavenly' act and just leave."

"That makes two of us, and I have a feeling the chance may come sooner than I imagined." Gwyff placed his helmet upon his head and showed no surprise when the caravan came to a halt. "And when I say soon, I mean within the next few minutes."

* * *

"E-excuse me, could you help me?" Karunee was apparently a good actress, for she not only fooled the templar, but almost fooled her allies with her 'innocent' act.

"What seems to be the matter, Sister? Where is your escort?" The man at the head of the convoy was a long-haired knight with very flamboyant jewelled armour and a cape that fluttered in the wind.

"They ran off, they said I had to stop." Upon the word 'stop,' a small burst of energy flowed from Karunee and enveloped the man. He froze in place, not moving a muscle. Oddly enough, the wind seemed to have no more effect on the man's cape.

D'Altine was shocked, and it took a moment before she realized that was the signal. As her target tried to talk to his leader, she took aim and loosed the bolt. She had aimed for the chest, but she was not fully used to the weapon, and the bolt had gone right into the man's neck. He made a gurgling sound before dropping to the earth. D'Altine was reminded of the incident in Durguera pass, when the leader of her mercenary troupe had been killed. D'Altine returned her thoughts to the present and charged, but stopped when she heard an explosion from the center of the caravan.

Osrich had thrown the red orb he'd held before, but wasn't far enough back, as his right leg was severed from his body. "Gah, rotten luck again." He seemed calm, probably due to him being used to such mishaps.

Karunee used the confusion to throw off the bulky robe and charged a poor squire near the front of the formation, slashing his throat, the sudden motion splashing her with his life-fluids. And with that she began to laugh hysterically as she began her assault upon another guard.

D'Altine found herself against a knight who was scrambling to get his helmet on and she used the opportunity to attack him, delivering a deep gash to his shield arm, but he recovered and began to fight back.

As Osrich pulled himself together—literally-he noticed something unusual. One of the knights templar was attacking his own allies! He'd already slain one, and was engaged with another. A third guard was bent over, vomiting into the grass, one arm holding his stomach, the other holding a small nick on his arm. Behind the rogue templar, a white mage stood back with an unreadable expression plastered on her face.

D'Altine found that she had managed to work her way towards Karunee, only to find the broken bodies of the templar, and a blood drenched Karunee playing with the pool of a man's life fluid. She swung around to see if Osrich needed help, but the road had grown silent. She heard a groaning in Karunee's direction; the leader of the caravan had begun to move, and was struggling to draw his blade.

Karunee took note of this and outstretched her hand towards the man, chanting something under her breath, which caused the most peculiar thing to happen; the man's arms were drawn towards himself and he fell to his knees. His armour began to groan and compress as he was crushed by an invisible force. Several seconds of this passed and blood began spilling from his mouth and nose, leaked from his eyes and ears, and dripped from the gaps in his armour. His eyes turned lifeless as his head began to compress, a sickly crack resonated through the air as his skull gave way. Soon the man was reduced to nothing more than a bloody ball of flesh and steel.

Karunee began to laugh maniacally.

D'Altine vomited.

Near the rear of the convoy Osrich was unable to witness the spectacle up front, but he played witness to one just as stomach turning...

* * *

Some laughs, some seriousness, and a mess in the end.

Can't spell slaughter without laughter.

I'll leave you here, 'cause I don't want the second chapter to be too much longer than the first. I feel like gradually increasing the length so that it doesn't overwhelm me.


	3. Bad blood and memories

Thank you to Wordsonscreen for reviewing and being my beta-reader. Thanks to Therederas for reviewing and for providing an important character.

I'm looking forward to this chapter...

* * *

Chapter three: Bad blood and memories

* * *

Of all the horrors Osrich had witnessed in his life and afterwards, he now played witness to one which he'd prefer to remain ignorant of. A templar of the church of Glabados wearing an unfamiliar white tabard that bore a red cross, turned traitor to his allies and slaying two before they could respond and delivering a third into a state far worse than death; a sight so disturbing it rendered a nearby priestess paralyzed with fear.

The scene before him was the state of the templar's allies-turned-enemies; of the two unable to combat, one lay lifeless upon the road, a sword wound through his heart, the other turned to stone, still standing with a final surprised expression permanently embedded upon his features, his hand above the hilt of his sword, having never been given a chance to defend himself. The man unlucky enough to survive was on his hands and knees vomiting into the grass. Around a light cut on his arm the flesh had turned green and yellow, was swollen, and emitted the nauseous stench of rotting flesh. Black liquid was oozing from the cut, running down his arm in slow, creeping trails, dissolving the metal of his gauntlet and the skin of his arm before falling to the ground with a hissing sound.

The templar seemed taken aback by the scene, unsure, as if he had not intended for this to happen. No...he definitely had not expected this, Osrich could tell. If the man had expected it, he would have finished the man off by now. "Oi! You there, mage!" He called out to the priestess that stood behind the templar.

The young woman didn't take her eyes off the kneeling man, but nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Cast a healing spell on him, the stronger the better!" Osrich began crawling towards a severed leg lying a few yards ahead of him. He was hoping he wouldn't have to look for his foot as well.

The priestess seemed taken by surprise at the apparent mercy of a man she could only identify as a bandit. Still, she began chanting quietly, and called forth a white light upon the injured man.

Curiously, the man did not recover. Instead, he began screeching in an otherworldly voice unachievable to humans, the man-turned-creature writhing in agony as the flesh around the original wound turned black and was seared by the holy magicks. A flame burst from the opening in its arm, crawling upward until it reached the creature's neck and sending it into a mad frenzy, causing it to lunge awkwardly at the nearest person, which happened to be the prone form of Osrich.

"Damn it!" Osrich twisted onto his back and caught the screeching...thing by its jaw and slammed its face into the dirt road. He drew a dagger from his belt and jammed it with all his strength into the back of its head, pinning it to the ground and partially crushing its skull with a sickening crunch.

The healer gasped when it began struggling against the blade, trying to stand. She hastily chanted another healing spell and cast it upon the creature and, with a horrendous cry, that which was once human was reduced to damp ashes in a suit of armour.

Rising to his feet, Osrich lost control of his temper and shouted at the one responsible, rage evident upon his face. _"What the hell were you thinking? Turning on your allies is one thing, but since when did you templar create vampires?"_ the battered thief stood unsteadily on a partially reattached leg, shaking violently as he barked at the man.

The templar seemed equally horrified at what had just transpired, having never seen anything like it. "I-I never meant for that to happen. I made a mistake while chanting and this happened."

The healer fell to her knees as tears formed in her eyes. "H-he didn't die... . He had a bloody dagger through his head and he didn't die!" she began sobbing into her sleeve, clearly traumatized. "Gwyff, what did you do? I know he was cruel but no one deserves that."

"Look at that, you've gone and made her cry." Osrich limped up to the templar and stared through the visor at the man's grey eyes. "Mistake or no, you should have finished him off. Never prolong an opponent's suffering, ever."

* * *

The sound of Osrich shouting stirred D'Altine from her shock induced stupor, and she became aware of three things. First was her breakfast from that morning, now regurgitated upon the ground in front of her. Second was the stench of blood, which seemed to be assaulting her nose from all directions. And third was a lightheaded sensation, causing her to stumble as she forced herself to move. She made her way along the convoy, noticing a distinctly differing manner of death among those who once escorted it. At the front the bodies were torn apart, as if it had been the work of a ferocious demon and not that of a healer. A little ways through the convoy, the kills became cleaner, more purposeful. D'Altine could identify it as her own work...these men did not suffer. Towards the middle of the convoy-or at least where it should have been-there was a crater, broken pieces of the wagons and their escort were strewn about; clearly this was caused by the explosion D'Altine had heard before, suggesting that Osrich was more than just the ungainly thief he appeared to be.

"Hey, D'Altine? You okay?" Osrich called out to the wavering knight who gave him no notice as she seemed to struggle with staying upright. "Oi! Is there something wrong?"

D'Altine froze as she approached what she assumed to be the remains of another guard, finding nothing but soggy ash spilling from his armour and deciding instantly that she didn't want to know what had transpired to reduce him to this state. She could barely make out the sound of shouting, which was actually Osrich, who was now standing beside her. She looked up at him with glazed over, weary eyes. Reaching up to remove her helmet, she felt a sharp pain on the left side of her head. The helmet proved to be a great deal heavier than she remembered it to be, and when she finally pried it off, she was very suddenly aware of something she hadn't noticed earlier; rain. "Do they weep for them?"

"Excuse me?" Upon removing her helmet, D'Altine stared up at the sky and began uttering nonsense, mostly mumbling aside from her first statement, but Osrich gathered that this may have had something to do with the blood leaking down the side of her face, or the traces of vomit around her mouth.

"It's raining...is it for these men?" D'Altine was swaying now, her eyesight growing hazy and swirling, but the rain was clear as ever.

"Huh?" Osrich lifted his hand in front of him and a single raindrop barely grazed it. He found it amazing she would notice something like that as the rain was almost invisible.

"Umm, is your friend there okay? Her head is bleeding." Gwyff sheathed his sword and came closer to examine the woman. He waved a hand in front of her face, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Wash us away...almighty...heavens..." D'Altine's vision turned black and she had the faint sensation of falling before she lost consciousness entirely.

"_D'Altine!"_ Osrich caught her before she hit the ground. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and held it against the bloody side of her head, which he supported with his hat. "You there, mage, can you help me out here?" There was no response from the woman; she just stared off in front of her. "Damnit! Templar, clear off one of the carts and bring it here!"

Gwyff obeyed, not even questioning the thought of helping a bandit. He pulled one of the convoy's carts over to Osrich and helped the thief hoist her onto it. "Up you go." Next he moved over to Rosary and lifted her to her feet, escorting her over to and onto the cart.

"Now we'll go get my noble leader, and we'll be off." Osrich drew his dagger and pointed it at Gwyff. "I'm afraid you'll have to come with us for now, we'll figure out what to do with you later." He gestured to Gwyff to help as he began to push the cart towards the front of the convoy and, beyond that, Dorter. But first they needed Karunee to take a look at D'Altine in hopes of getting the head injury healed. Osrich grunted as the cart moved along the increasingly damp road, past the crater, and towards the bloodied mess that was the bandit leader.

"What, no chocobos?" Karunee chuckled at the sight of a partially singed Osrich and an unfamiliar armour clad figure pushing the cart towards her. She took note of the young priestess sitting upon it, taking on an amused expression. "Oh, we seem to have acquired a young maiden. Perhaps you plan to replace me, young lady, hmm?" There was no response, only silence. "Oh, how unfortunate, there's nobody home."

"Right now isn't a good time for that jokes, D'Altine is out of it and the last time I checked, you were a healer." Osrich pointed out the unconscious figure lying on the cart.

"I'm afraid I've never really been that good at healing magick, but there is something I can do for her until we can find her a proper healer." Karunee chanted under her breath and finished while holding her hand towards the woman in the cart. D'Altine stopped breathing, her hair stopped moving, and the raindrops around her were suspended in mid air. "This should last until Dorter. I take it you've cleared up everything you need to do?"

"For now, but you're helping us push this. Hopefully we can get there before the rain turns the roads to mud." The scorched thief indicated the cart.

"I guess we'll take care of introductions with these two after we find a healer, then." The one-eyed mage remembered something important. "There should be a small hospital for the poor in the slums, perhaps we should start there."

"That would be wise seeing as you need to avoid the town guards, and I need to avoid the templar." Gwyff grabbed a hold of the cart and began to push. "And if you'll have me, I'd like to join your little outfit."

"First Dorter, then we'll deal with this." Osrich began pushing harder, exceeding the limits of any living person.

* * *

The last few days had been long for Nico; the small family hospital his father owned had received some new patients from a mercenary group who were unable to afford a proper church healer in Gariland, resorting to spending a few weeks in the hospital and inn of the slums of the trade city. Broken bones had to be set, and they would never properly heal without magic. One of the patients wouldn't be able to continue his career even if he did receive magickal treatment as most of his bones were broken and he had suffered severe head and spinal trauma. He was recovering from a collapsed lung as well, and had lost three fingers on his sword hand. Another patient had taken a sharp blow to the shoulder forcing him to wear a cast, but he would take some time to recover. Their third serious injury was a young woman who had most of the bones in her right torso broken; her sister was a chemist and was helping Nico and his father to treat the patients. She never spoke, though, so any hope of conversation about their trade was abandoned. The sound of a bell at the hospital's front door announced new arrivals, and with them, new injuries. Nico went to greet them and was greeted with a grisly sight.

Upon reaching the hospital in Dorter, Osrich and Gwyff lifted D'Altine out of the cart and carried her to the door, which Karunee threw open, almost ripping the little bell above it out of the wall. Rosary trailed behind them, solemn and quiet. The boy who greeted them seemed startled, but that was understandable given their sudden appearance and the state of their attire. A middle aged woman carried a stack of folded towels into a door on the left glancing at them as she passed them with a curious expression.

The hospital's new arrivals looked like they had taken on a dragon and almost lost. A scorched man with a strange hat and an armour clad man with a rather impressive sword at his hip carried in an unconscious woman with a bloody face into the waiting room. The person who had opened the door was a one-eyed priestess covered in blood and bore her own armament. Behind them was another priestess who appeared distracted, staring off into space ahead of her. "Let's get her over to a bed and take a look at her injury." Treatment first, questions later; this was Nico's policy. "Looks like someone hit her hard, she'll need to rest a while and I think she might have a concussion." Nico began swabbing salve over the wound and checked her over once more. "She seems to have avoided a neck injury, though she may be lightheaded or prone to dizzy spells depending on how much blood she lost."

Osrich sighed in relief. He'd only known D'Altine for a day and a half and she had already grown on him; she reminded him a great deal of his sister. "Good. Oh and don't worry about the rest of us, we're not actually injured, it was just the young woman here."

Nico was surprised by that, although the amount of blood on the one-eyed priestess did seem to be more than she could probably lose herself without passing out. Perhaps it belonged to the patient? "Okay… . Well, I am Nicolas Achen, my father owns this establishment and I am currently in training here. You may call me Nico." For someone living in the slums of Dorter, his speech was very professional.

"I'm Osrich K'vanh; I'll be paying for this young lady's treatment." He held his hand out to the chemist before him.

Nico shook the outstretched hand and looked expectantly at the armour clad figure beside Osrich.

Realizing that he was next, Gwyff reached up and remove his helmet to show a pale complexion and short brown hair. "Gwyff Ocheld, former templarate apprentice."

Karunee butted in before Nico could respond. "I'm Karunee Offield, the leader of this group." She held her hand out for Nico to kiss, but he shook it instead, almost as if he sensed her intent. This boy was more perceptive than she had originally thought.

"And the young lady in the back?" The chemist leaned to the side to get a better look at the priestess behind Gwyff.

"...Rosary, I don't have a last name so don't bother askin'." Rosary spoke for the first time since leaving the Siege Weald, though she still kept her gaze set straight ahead.

"Ah, returned to reality have you?" Karunee turned on her heel to face the girl. "Good, I wouldn't want the spoils to be broken before we decide who gets what."

"Spoils? Is she a prisoner of war?" Nico tilted his head. "Or...are you perhaps mercenaries as well?"

"As well? Is there someone else in the hospital?" Osrich hadn't seen anyone else when they entered.

"Ah, yes a group of mercenaries came here about a week ago with some pretty serious injuries but were unable to afford a healer in Gariland; we've put them in the other room." Nico didn't mention that his mother had probably told the mercenaries about the group that he was currently treating. "The ones who aren't injured are staying in the inn across the road."

As if on cue, the door opened and two of the mercenaries entered, one wore the various pouches of a chemist and the other was a girl with her right torso heavily bandaged and resembled the other a great deal. "So there are others-" The bandaged girl stopped talking when she noticed the figure on the bed. _"D'Altine?"_

"Shh! This is a hospital, keep your voice down!" Nico held a finger to his lips to emphasize his point. "Honestly, does no one have respect for the injured anymore? I at least thought... ." He trailed off, mumbling to himself.

"You are acquainted with this young lady?" Karunee asked the mercenary, ignoring Nico.

"She was in our mercenary troupe until she up and vanished in Gariland about a week ago after the job that landed us in this dump." Had anyone been paying attention to Nico when the mercenary said this, they might have noticed his eye twitch.

"Ah, the job up in the mountains that left her so disgusted." Karunee nodded in acknowledgement. "You really should have her explain what was really being transported, I'm sure she'd love to tell you."

"I doubt that. She never really talked with us much outside of a barroom, and that usually had disastrous effects." The injured woman sighed. "I'm Shel, the quiet one beside me is Nat." The chemist nodded and clung onto Shel. "She's my sister, if it wasn't obvious."

"Such young, beautiful women forced to work as mercenaries, how cruel this world is." Osrich faked an exasperated sigh.

Karunee regarded Osrich with surprise; this was a side she had yet to see... . What else was he hiding?

Shel was speechless, Nat wasn't impressed. "H-have we m-met before?" It was suddenly apparent that Nat could speak, whether or not she was shy or just chose not to speak remained to be seen.

"Possibly. A pair of young girls, one who doesn't talk, the other very vocal and quite charming...I believe we met in Eagrose." Osrich was pretty sure that was it, though it had been almost twenty years since then.

"O-Osrich K'vanh...disowned by his f-father for heresy." The room was instantly quiet. "Thief, heretic, m-murderer..." Nat actually hid behind her sister, careful not to touch the bandages.

"I'm a thief, it's true. I was labelled a heretic, this is also the truth." Osrich took off his hat and set it in his lap. "And if killing one man who ordered the death of hundreds of innocent people is murder, I will proudly wear that brand." No one could say anything at this point except Nico.

"Miss Shel, I believe that you should not be out of bed, you would not want my mother to bother you again, would you?" Shel seemed to panic at this prospect and left, taking her sister with her. "Now, while you're all here, I might as well check your health. Oh, and Miss Rosary, would you please assist my mother with her patients? I'm sure your magick would be of great help." An aura of overwhelming sweetness was emanating from the young chemist, who seemed impervious to the tense atmosphere.

Rosary wasn't sure if he was really that innocent or if she was being conned, but she left the room in search of his mother anyway.

"Now, let's see if any of you need medical attention."

* * *

The first thing D'Altine was aware of was the smell of medical supplies. Her eyes opened slightly to reveal a small rustic room, clean wooden furniture with a small table beside her with various swabs, bottles, and blood-soaked cloths. Various charts and instruments were hung on a wall at the end of the bed upon which she lay above a desk littered with books and scrolls she assumed to be medical texts. The next thing to come to her attention was the sound of people talking. It sounded heated, an argument perhaps? The first voice was definitely Osrich; a thick layer of sarcasm was detectable even though she could not make out what was being said. The second was a young male voice seemingly laced with sugar; it held an overwhelming sense of familiarity, as if she'd heard it in a dream. The third was very familiar; it was hoarse from a sore throat which is what made it easy for her to recognize. The voices were coming from the other side of a door that was on the opposite side of the room from her. As she brought herself to her feet, D'Altine became aware that she was still fully clothed minus her cloak; had they been in a typical clinic, she would have been changed into a gown. She searched the room until she found Karunee's bag, which after a quick inspection, yielded her cloak. She wrapped it around her shoulders, finding herself uncomfortably cold. What reason did Karunee have for tucking away her cloak? She pushed the door open slowly to discover that she had guessed correctly, the third voice was Klim from her old mercenary troupe, his spear gleaming in the light given off by a lantern on the wall. "Commander?"

Osrich had been arguing with a nosy mercenary who was trying to take D'Altine back into his troupe when the knight in question emerged from the hospital room wearing the green cloak he had told Karunee to hide. "D'Altine, get back in there!"

Alas, it was too late; Klim spotted D'Altine and the cloak in an instant. "D'Altine, I never would've thought you'd become a bandit, I thought you despised 'em."

D'Altine turned pale, both in sudden realization of her mistake, and her exhaustion. A young man in the blue garb of a chemist rushed over and spoke in the voice from her dream. "You should be in bed resting, come on, in you go." He ushered her back into the bed and draped her cloak over her.

"You really do accept anyone at this hospital don't you? I'm sure the city guard would love to hear that you're harbouring bandits." Klim grabbed his cloak off a hanger by the door and prepared to leave, but the door would not open. "Huh? Is it locked?"

"I think you might want to review your own activities before reporting someone." Karunee entered the lobby from the kitchen, her hand held towards the front door. "I think killing several Griffon knights and smuggling opium to be far worse than treating a few injured bandits."

"What are you talking about? I've done nothing of the sort; you better watch where you throw accusations woman." He pointed at Karunee with his spear.

"Are you sure? Did you not wonder why D'Altine left your troupe?" Karunee kept her hand outstretched towards the door as she approached the dragoon.

"It's true." Klim turned his head over to D'Altine, who had come back out of her room again. "They were lead by Lieutenant-Commander Klider Maw of Lionel, and we killed them because we were told to. Those grain carts were a cover-up. Why else would they go into the manse and not the village?"

Klim dropped his spear. "By the gods...I didn't realize-damnit!"

Nico ushered the recovering woman back into her room, this time locking the door. "Rest up in there. I don't want you to pass out from exhaustion." Nico sighed and took off his hat to reveal a mop of messy brown hair. "Honestly, these people just won't lie still."

"Now you know, and I'm sure that if the guards get some bandits they won't mind some smugglers to go with them. Or would you rather remain quiet and retain your freedom?" Karunee watched as the man before her squirmed, suffice to say she was enjoying herself. She lowered her hand, satisfied with her work.

"Fine. I'll keep quiet about it. At least about the hospital, but don't blame me if we end up taking a job to hunt you down." The mercenary commander grabbed his spear off the floor and opened the door with ease and left for the inn.

Karunee waited until he was out of earshot before giving her response. "I'll look forward to it. Then we'll see if that hard exterior holds some soft insides...when I take them out." The mage turned on her heel and re-entered the kitchen.

Nico found himself unsure what to make of the situation, and Karunee's words just then scared him a little. He decided to ignore it all and returned to his patients, quickly checking to make sure D'Altine was in her bed resting, all the while fiddling with a little green armband on his wrist.

* * *

"You sure you're all right, not dizzy at all?" Nico cross-examined D'Altine the following day as the bandits were preparing to leave.

"Yes, I'm sure, and I appreciate your concern, but you've asked me four times now." D'Altine held her battered helmet under her arm while making sure her sword belt was on tight. Apparently, D'Altine had taken a powerful blow from a templar's shield and was staggered. It was amazing how far she was able to walk before passing out.

Nico had given his assessment of the group's health, recommending various ways to prevent any further harm to themselves.

Karunee had suffered minor mental exhaustion due to an overuse of her magicks over the course of the day. She also was disappointed to discover that neither conventional methods nor magick could restore her eye. Nico had told her to ease up on any powerful magicks for at least another day as to not risk her health.

Gwyff's check-up was kept quiet, and he had Nico sworn to secrecy.

Osrich was diagnosed as dead, not surprising at all to Osrich, but it sure frightened Rosary and Nico. Gwyff had his suspicions, mostly because living people can't just reattach a leg without any help in the heat of battle. Nico had suggested Osrich try using holy water to cure his ailment, but was shocked to discover that it had already been attempted and was unsuccessful.

Rosary seemed perfectly healthy, at least physically. Her mental state, however, was in disarray. At least she was talking, though she showed great confusion whenever Karunee referred to her as 'spoils'.

With Rosary's help Nico's parents were able to get most of the mercenaries up and moving. All except one, who despite having his career abruptly ended, considered himself the luckiest man alive. Ergoll had survived the plunge off the cliff and had escaped with his life. He could not fight, but that did not stop him from moving on with life. D'Altine offered her condolences to the man before he left.

"I've a feeling we'll be doing business with you again sometime soon and though my father appreciates the business, it's not good for the hospital's reputation to take in criminals too often." Nico fiddled with his armband while he chatted with the group. Rosary seemed like she would be of much help should an emergency arise and after asking his mother, he discovered that Karunee's healing magicks were more likely to do more harm than good, even potentially fatal for an inexplicable reason. "Stay safe on the roads and avoid the wild chocobos if you can, they're particularly violent this time of year.

"Oh you don't have to worry about that..." Karunee offered some degree of reassurance.

Nico sighed. "I hope so."

"...because you're coming with us." Or not.

Nico nodded. "Okay...wait, _what?"_

* * *

I know, the medical expertise in this chapter was...medieval, I'm no surgeon and I'm not exactly accident proned.  
That's another two characters in one chapter, c'mon that's gotta be a record for me!

Rosary's fate as well as another one of Osrich's secrets shall be revealed in the next chapter, you may look forward to it.


	4. Haunting Darkness

Chapter four, this is where I'm starting to get into a sort of...flow of things.

I'm hoping this chapter turns out right, but then again...I'm not really dictating the characters actions, they're just tellin' me what to write as I go. (So many voices... .)

Many thanks to my older brother for this one, and to my step-mom for the...inspiration.

* * *

Chapter Four: Haunting Darkness

* * *

"You're taking this pretty well considering how suddenly it was brought up." This was the opening to their conversation as the bandits made their way out of Dorter bound for...well, they weren't entirely sure. They needed to designate a place to gather, a base camp of sorts. Osrich was leading them as it was he who had an idea of where to go and he was also the one who asked the young chemist about his willingness to go along with Karunee's plan to induct him into their rag-tag band of misfits. "You seemed opposed to the idea, yet here you are."

"If it is something I cannot control then there is no point in fighting it." Nico sighed, holding his hands up in defeat. "Should God decide that I am to join you there is naught to be done." For a brief moment, his expression turned dark and his eyes downcast. "Besides, Karunee managed to convince Mother that it was a good idea and once you get an idea into her head there is no point in arguing." His expression returned to normal and he continued as if nothing happened.

Osrich put his hands behind his head and stretched his back. "So in other words, you're a pushover?"

"Well, that is not what I would call it, but I suppose so." Nico craned his neck to get a better look at the road ahead. The surrounding area was overgrown, showing little signs of man or beast, the untamed plant life creeping up the remains of ancient road markers and crumbling ruins. The road was in a state of disrepair, grass poking through between worn cobblestones and dominating the side of the road. Broken shop carts and the bones of pack animals were barely visible along the unkempt roadside, suggesting that the area was abandoned very suddenly. "So how far until we reach our destination."

"Just a little further, it should be just past the memorial." Osrich pointed ahead to a bend in the road where a large stone tablet jutted out from a pile of stones. "Mind if we stop over there first? I feel like I need to pay my respects."

"I don't remember a memorial near here." Karunee caused the thief to jump. "Pay more attention to everything around you a little more." She added.

"Ah, sorry. Anyways, there was a memorial put up ahead at the end of the war... ." Osrich looked thoughtful for a moment. "I wonder." And with that, he dashed up to the large stone. He began pulling vines off it, revealing a list of names carved into the rock. "It's still legible after seven years."

"Hmm? What have we here?" Gwyff came to a halt at the base of the stone, which was easily twice his height, and read the first part aloud. "In memory of those who perished in the bloody conflict know as the 'War of the Lions', May they be remembered and their lessons passed on." He shifted his weight to better support the sleeping mage that he was carrying on his back, such long walks never did any good for Rosary.

D'Altine examined the names, most of which she recalled hearing in pubs, or she had seen on the weekly handbills. Some names, like the late king Delita and the Marquis Elmdore, struck a chord in her memory, some were names she vaguely remembered hearing from the instructors in the akademy, and others were entirely unknown to her, although one of these unfamiliar names had the same surname as the king. The very last name, and this actually caused her to smile a little, was Osrich. In all, there were thirty-one names inscribed into the stone. "All of these are people who died during the war seven years ago?" D'Altine noted that the carving quality varied from name to name. The last one was particularly crude, as if it had been done one-handed.

"Yeah, we felt there should be some sort of reminder. We put this here so that any wayward traveller might learn of what happened." Osrich kneeled and picked up a rose from the base of the memorial and muttered to himself. "Still at it I see...but who are you?"

"Why is your name on here? You are not fully dead." Nico pressed his finger to the last name on the list.

The thief chuckled. "Heh, Ladd thought it would be funny to put my name on there, I still haven't gotten him back yet." He dropped the rose back into its original place.

"A hero? You don't seem particularly heroic." Karunee gave Osrich a sideways glance.

"That's harsh of you." Sighing, Osrich opened his collar and revealed a scar that ran down from his shoulder to his heart. "I'd lay my life on the line to protect a lady, even if she wasn't particularly fond of me. But that's a story for another time; our destination is just a little further ahead." He closed his collar, turned on his heel, and began walking down the road.

Karunee stared at the rose at the memorial's base for a moment before continuing. "Osrich, might I ask what it means by 'a flunked student'?

"Ah, well. Doesn't it seem odd that a thirty-four year old man was in the same class in the Akademy with the sixteen year old Ramza Beoluve?" Osrich scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "I entered at a later age and my laziness ended up keeping me back a few times."

"And exactly how many times was that?" Wearing a smug look, Karunee crossed her arms as amusement tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Well, seeing as my younger sister was able to graduate before me, I'd say about fifteen times." An awkward silence followed this statement, broken only when the priestess before him broke into hysterical laughter.

D'Altine had an entirely different question. "You have a sister?"

"Had... . Don't misunderstand, she's not dead or anything it's just that I haven't heard from her since I was disowned." Deciding that they really needed to move along, he put himself behind Karunee and began pushing her along the road, despite the woman being much taller and a little heavier than himself. "But that's enough storytelling, we're almost there and I think Gwyff could use a break from carrying your 'spoils'."

Giving in, the mage continued walking, but when their destination came into view she froze in place, her laughter end abruptly. "O-Orbonne Monastery?" Ahead, past the grassy path that was once a road, the shattered remains of the once holy ground remained. Rising in its shadowed glory, the bell tower stood with its shattered windows and vines crawling up the side. The main doors were on the ground, blown outward from the building, an infinite darkness beckoning them inside.

"Where the war began...and where it truly ended." Approaching the steps in front of the building, one could see a dark stain spread out amongst the cobbles, the grass withered in its wake. "Wiegraf Folles lost his humanity here, and Belias the Gigas was born." Osrich kicked at the bottom stair before ascending into the hall.

Following shortly behind the casual, if not careless thief, D'Altine was amazed by the state of ruin that gripped the main chapel. Two rows of rotten pews, falling apart from age, and scattered amongst them were various scripts and texts, mouldy from the damp air, thick with the smell of rotting wood and parchment. The only light came from the broken windows on either side of the great room, revealing a shattered grand chandelier, still aloft on its thick chains. "It's dark in here. Do you have anything that we can use to illuminate it?"

Osrich hummed a quiet tune thoughtfully as he searched through his pocket and pulled out a yellow orb. It gave off light, but its most striking feature was the lightning that flowed throughout it. "Use this, there's just one thing... ."

Receiving the orb, D'Altine was surprised to discover how light it was. "Yes?" D'Altine found herself staring into it, entranced.

"If you don't want to die an embarrassing death, I suggest you don't drop it." With that, Osrich wandered off, disappearing into the darkness.

D'Altine couldn't respond to that. She shook her head, deciding to take his advice and not dwell on it any longer as she started off into the darkness, holding the orb out in front of her like a torch. Around her, now visible in the flickering light was the monastery where the largest civil war in history had begun. Frayed tapestries hung from the wall, moss crept through the spaces between the brickwork, occasionally broken apart where a tree root had pushed through the wall. "Strange, it looks as if this place has been abandoned for decades, much more tha—" She stopped mid sentence upon coming face to face with a large creature holding something above its head. Instinctively, she reached for her sword, but stopped when she realized that it wasn't moving. Taking a closer look at it, it dawned on her that it was more of a metal statue, and the object it was holding above its head was a shattered ceiling pillar, long scattered around its base. "What on earth is this?"

"_Oi!" _A loud, booming voice echoed throughout the chapel, the acoustics of the room enhancing it, but it was still loud to begin with. _"Tha's mine!"_

D'Altine drew her sword and swung around on her heel, holding the orb in a way that shadows obscured the view of her facial features. In front of her was a huge man, easily more than a foot taller than herself. He was built like an ox, with various swords at his side, a wide bladed knight-sword in his left hand.

"I don' know who ye think ye are laddy, but ah found this machination ferst, it belongs ter mae." His voice was thick with a foreign accent, every 'r' was rolled and it made his voice gruff and intimidating. "Ye made a mistake in coming here, now ye, an' yer friends won' be leaving." He raised the blade above his head, ready to crush the shorter person before him.

D'Altine struggled with her shield, trying to get it into a position to block the blow, and in the process she dropped the yellow orb she'd been using for light. It landed between the large man's legs, and it broke on impact. There was a bright flash accompanied by a loud cracking noise, spots filled her vision, and before her the large man looked surprised...and perhaps a little crispy.

"Aye... ." He coughed, his sword clattered to the ground behind him. "That hurt." He lost balance and fell forward, right on top of D'Altine.

* * *

Gwyff had set Rosary down on one of the slightly less rotten pews and had made his way up to the altar at the head of the chapel. A muggy, decayed tome sat upon it, various holy teachings inscribed upon it. This did not interest him at all, instead his goal was the little switch hidden beneath it, which opened the back of the altar to reveal various phylacteries; blood-filled vials that stood as a grim reminder of the long forbidden rituals of old. Reaching amongst them, he retrieved a tall glass bottle that was a different shape from the others. "Ah, here we are." He pulled the cork out from the top and took a swig of its contents. "Finely aged, not bad for something locked inside a dusty altar for who knows how long." He set the wine bottle down on the floor and sat down on the altar, considering trying to get Nico to try some. "I wonder if he can hold his liquor." Deciding that it couldn't hurt to try, he drank the remaining water from his canteen, refilled it with the wine, and was about to take another swig from the bottle when some shouting got his attention. He put the bottle down and turned in the direction of the sound, only to be blinded by a bright flash and deafened by a loud crackling noise that echoed throughout the structure. Upon regaining his sight, he rushed to the source of the commotion to find a large man lying unconscious on top of D'Altine, pinning her to the floor. "What the—"

D'Altine looked up from her uncomfortable position and spotted Gwyff, canteen in hand and a flabbergasted look on his face. "Gwyff, if you've the time to gawk, then you should certainly have the time to get this oaf off of me." She emphasized her point by trying to shove the man off, but to no avail.

Gwyff nodded, capped off his canteen, and tried to shove the man off the knight below. "Bloody hell, this guy's a monster! And who knows how much all that armour and gear weighs. He must be carrying everything he owns on him!" He huffed and turned his gaze on D'Altine, an unreadable expression on his face. "I guess I'll have to strip him down to move him."

"I-I really don't think that's necessary!" D'Altine sputtered, a hint of a blush creeping up her face though it was probably mistakable for suffocation. "Just go get Nico or Osrich, one of them should do."

Gwyff chuckled and called out for the thief, guessing that he'd be more help than the chemist. "Oi! Osrich, D'Altine's got an unconscious man on top of her, c'mere!"

D'Altine stared in disbelief at the templar before her. "Gwyff, I will not be responsible for anything I do to you once this man is moved off of me." She glared at him, causing him to flinch.

""Er, that didn't come out right." He held his hand in an apologetic gesture, but the trapped woman didn't change her expression.

"I'm hoping I misheard you Gwyff, I don't think—" Osrich appeared from behind a piece of the broken pillar and stared at the man on the ground. "You dropped it anyway I see, but who is this?"

"This lumbering oaf tried to kill me!" The weight of the man was becoming problematic, compressing her chest and making breathing difficult. "Get him off before I'm crushed to death." The knight began gasping for air, but found herself at a loss.

Osrich grabbed the man by his shoulder and pulled him back, lifting him up with superhuman strength. He then shoved him aside, sending the large man crashing to the floor as if he was a limp rag. "Phew, he's a hefty fellow." He reached down to help D'Altine to her feet. "Up you go." Brushing himself off, the thief caught a glimpse of the statue holding the pillar. "Well I'll be damned, I forgot about this thing."

Hurried footsteps could be heard, and in an instant, Nico was before them. "What was that sound? And that light was astonishing!" The man on the floor caught his eye, and he began checking him for vital signs. "What happened to this man?"

"He tried to kill me." D'Altine clutched her side, still sore from being crushed. "You don't have to help him, you know."

"I am choosing to do so." He began disarming the man, unlatching the various sword belts from his hip. "I am not careless, fear not, but could you help me sit him up against this?" He indicated a large piece of the broken pillar. "You tie him up, I will treat him, and then you may question him."

Osrich complied, putting the statue out of his mind, and set about propping the man up against the stone. "I'm glad to see you have some common sense, though your sense of priorities might be a bit off." He rifled through the man's pockets, and was rewarded with a crunching sound. "Just my luck." He pulled his hand out of the man's pocket, and with it, a baby malboro. "First D'Altine is attacked, and then crushed. Of course something bad was bound to happen to me." He muttered this to himself as he shook his hand in an attempt to dislodge the creature, but it had a death grip on his fingers.

The sound of chains rattling was suddenly audible, and Gwyff came into view dragging them along the floor. "These should do the trick." He helped Nico wrap them around the large man and the pillar behind him, finishing it up by binding his legs. He clapped his hands together, hoping D'Altine would forget about him. "I found these in a storage closet."

"Eh? When did you run off?" Osrich had been so preoccupied that the templar had been able to leave without him noticing. "Never mind, that doesn't matter. How's he look, Nico?" Nico was nowhere to be seen. "Huh?"

The response came from behind the statue; how he came to be there suddenly was a mystery. "He will be fine." Nico poked his head out from behind the metal statue. "It looks like he was struck by lightning between his legs. Hey, there is a panel on the back of this stat—" A loud whirring noise interrupted him as the statue in question began shaking.

"Uh-oh! Nico, you've turned it on!" Osrich jumped out of the way as the machination dropped the broken pillar. "Construct Eight! It's me, Osrich!"

The machine did not respond, instead it turned around with a series of clunky movements to face Nico, its arms dropped to its side, and the automaton appeared to stare right at him. **"Initialization Complete. All Systems Normal. What Is Your Command, Master?" **The words it spoke were loud and monotone, lacking in any degree of emotion.

"W-what? M-me?" There are few words to describe the level of utter confusion that the young chemist was experiencing.

"**Awaiting Your Command, Master."** It waited for Nico, unmoving.

"It said those exact words to Ramza the first time we turned him on." Osrich began tugging at the tentacles of the creature still attached to his hand. "Give it an order, see what happens."

"I, uh, w-well." Nico was panicking; he disliked being forced to make a decision, and in his panic he gave the first order that came to mind. _"Dance!"_

To everyone's surprise, the automaton started dancing.

Osrich began to laugh. "Such irony! That's the exact same order Ramza gave him!" The creature on his hand made grumbling noises as it tried to chew through the tough, lifeless hand of the thief. Paying no notice to it, instead Osrich strolled up to Nico and patted him on the back with his trapped hand, the malboro squeaking with each impact. "Congratulations, you have acquired your very own combat automaton! Though, you really don't have to shout when you give it an order."

"C-combat? But I hate fighting!" He held his head in his hands, shaking it in disbelief. "Ugh, this cannot be happening!"

"You don't have to use it for combat, that's just what we think it was built for. Try using it for other work like heavy lifting or transportation, he even makes a good pack-mule." Osrich stepped up to the machine in question, taking care not to touch it.

"I suppo—" The chemist caught sight of the creature on the thief's hand, which was resting on his shoulder. Leaping away from Osrich, he shouted in surprise at the sudden appearance of the plant-like malboro.

Construct Eight took this as a threat to its new master. **"Auto Defence Initiated. Elimination Commencing."** Instead of targeting the small creature, it decided Osrich was the threat. Its hand retracted into its arm and a hammer replaced it, and the automaton raised it above its head.

Gazing up at the cylinder, the thief tried to voice his thoughts. "I should've see—"

* * *

Horrible memories were all that came to mind, as she gazed up at the stone structure before her. Karunee had spent many years here under the guidance of Elder Simon and the church attendants; but to see the monastery in such a state filled her with two emotions. Sadness at the sight of her former home in ruins, and joy, for she felt all punishment to the church of Glabados was deserved for what they had once planned for her.

* * *

What they had planned was a saintly rite: a ritual only planned in times of conflict, it consisted of taking a pure young priestess and taking her to Mullonde and putting her through three trials. The first trial; she must bring joy to the people through acts of generosity and inspiration, actions secretly aided by templarate spies who would do anything to make them possible. The second trial; she must bring followers into the church, preaching all over the land and producing miracles to inspire belief, miracles also made possible by the templarate. The third and final trial; she must bring swift judgement to the church's enemies, in this time she is taught to fight using her holy magicks, a horrid process that was truly murder disguised as divine punishment. At the end of the long, arduous rite, she is then martyred by sending her alone against the hordes of monsters that plague Ivalice; death was inevitable. Karunee had discovered their plans, but she did not understand the trials until one day, while helping Elder Simon sort books within the catacombs she discovered a hidden door leading to the long forgotten lower undercroft. Within she discovered many books and, in her naïve ignorance, had begun to sort them believing she'd be praised. Among these books she discovered a dusty volume labelled Glabados rites and rituals and within it the truth about the 'holy' rite she was to partake in. When she was discovered, she was immediately punished for neglecting her chores and locked in a room with no food or water for a whole day where she was ordered to meditate upon her mistake. She decided she enjoyed this particular punishment, as it gave her time to think undisturbed and she began to do it at the beginning of every month, even though she stayed out of trouble. On her sixteenth year, near the date when she was to be taken to Mullonde, Orbonne was sacked by bandits and Karunee and some of the other young girls were taken prisoner and brought to a hideout in the Bhedda sandwastes.

It was there, amongst the rolling dunes and blistering heat, that she experienced a true living hell.

She had been forced into doing the bandit clan's bidding, and was beaten when she refused. They abused her, using her to let out their anger, using her as a sexual toy, or torturing her for sheer entertainment. In one case, as a bit of fun, they tricked her into poisoning one of her fellow prisoners; she began to lose faith in the gods after such suffering, for no salvation came even though he prayed when she could. On the beginning of her third year in captivity, the clan was attacked by a group of mercenaries from Limberry, they mistook Karunee for a bandit during the fighting and a man with a dagger attacked her. In her panic, she plunged a cooking knife into the man's throat, splashing her with what seemed to be an endless geyser of blood and she just...snapped. After the dust had settled and the mercenaries driven off, the leader of the bandits discovered her, knife in hand, playing with blood in her hair and staring at the man's corpse. The decision was made that she would no longer be the thrall of the clan, but instead a new member.

Over the next nine years, they transformed her from the innocent priestess she had once been into everything she once hated. She became sadistic, revelling in the suffering of others. The very torture she once endured involuntarily became pleasure as she became increasingly masochistic, seeking the pain more and more often. At the peak of the bandit's little empire, they were attacked by the Glabados templarate and slaughtered except for Karunee, who had technically never left the clergy and instead cut out her eye as punishment for her crimes. Afterwards, with no one else to turn to, she tried to rejoin the clergy, but the lack of adventure and violence led her to leave it behind; she ended up in Gariland after that, and it was there she had found D'Altine in the dimly lit Barroom.

* * *

Gazing at the ruined structure and reminiscing over her past, the bandit priestess didn't know whether to laugh or cry as she made her way inside. A haunting darkness filled the structure, and there was no sign of her-friends? Allies? She hadn't really thought about what to consider them, they had only been travelling together for—the sound of mumbling got her attention, causing her to snap out of her thoughts. Upon one of the pews, Rosary lay fast asleep, wrapped up in her cloak and talking in her sleep.

It was then that Karunee remembered she had yet to claim her 'spoils.'

* * *

I lied, Rosary's fate shall be next chapter instead, as is decided by the characters. But at least it is guaranteed this time.

Boy oh boy, I think I'm on a roll!


	5. When the going gets rough

I'm looking forward to this...what? Of course the author can look forward to his own writing! Sheesh!

This is an important warning: Some of this chapter's content is not for the weak-spirited, chances are it will creep you the Fuck out, I will be using the following indicator at the beginning and ending of such a scene:

0o0o0o0o0o0

On with the show!

* * *

Chapter five: When the going gets rough... .

* * *

For a moment, Nico was unsure of what had just transpired. He remembered talking to himself, the malboro on his shoulder, and his newly acquired—what did Osrich call it? An automaton?—smashing the aforementioned thief through the floor. He now stood alongside his companions in a circle around the hole made by the impact, staring down into an apparent blackness. "Osrich? Are you all right?" Nico honestly believed that the man had been killed; no one could survive an impact like that as far as he knew.

To the surprise of those who stood above the hole in the stone floor, an irritated voice emitted from the opening. "Okay, I felt that one." The sound of debris shifting around became audible to those above as Osrich rose to his feet from the pile of stone below him. He began to dust himself off, and in doing so realized that the tiny malboro that had earlier held a death-grip on his hand was nowhere to be seen.

A series of squeaks and gurgling noises could be heard by all present as the creature in question scaled the side of the hole, leaving a shiny trail of slime behind it. The wall of the room below had been coated in dust and was proving rather difficult for the malboro to ascend, but in the end the creature was able to reach the top, only to find itself surrounded by several humans much taller than itself, including a rather intimidating man with a red cross on the front of his bright white tabard.

"What's this?" D'Altine stooped over to get a better look at the plant-like creature that had emerged from the hole. The creature was busy growling in Gwyff's direction and did not notice her until she picked it up. It turned its attention to her, but instead of the vicious growl it had directed toward the ex-templar, it emitted a gurgled purring noise.

"What is that thing?" Nico had come closer, but would not move into biting range.

"I think...it's a malboro." D'Altine examined the creature with a newfound curiosity. "I was unaware they could be so small...and I didn't realize there was such a thing as a purple malboro." Staring at the creature in her palm, she poked at it experimentally and blinked in surprise as it squeaked in response. Encouraged by the sound, D'Altine pulled on one of its tentacles lightly and released it as the malboro made a strained noise, and lifting it dangerously close to her face and chuckled as it licked her. It left slime on her face that glistened in the faint sunlight emitting from the shattered stained-glass windows of the monastery.

"Found him as a spore Ah did, thought he was edible." The gruff, thickly accented voice alerted all those around that the large man chained to a broken pillar had miraculously awakened. "Doesn' seem ter like men much, but he loves the lasses. Ah can deal wi' him 'cause he thinks Ah'm his mother." He rose to his feet, breaking the chains effortlessly as if he was unbound. "Now wha' was Ah doin'...Oi! Which one of ye made off wi' my weapons!" He began casting his eyes around until he caught sight of them leaning against another pillar. "Now why'd you have ter go an' disarm mae? Ah don' bite."

"Y-you don't remember? You tried to kill me!" D'Altine had her sword drawn while her free hand clutched the tiny malboro.

"Now why wou' Ah do tha'? Ah'd never draw mae blade against a lass." The inhumanly large man shook his head in disbelief, before straightening himself and bowing before them. "Mae name is Klintain Lattirsh, Ah'm here ter look fer treasures in the old monastery." He pulled a black feathered cap from a pouch on his waist and placed it upon his head as he stood up to his full height. Even in the dark, one could make out the shining silver and blue armour he donned, and the black cloak covering it.

"That armour...you are of the Lion's Guard?" D'Altine stepped away from Klintain in shock, her grip on her blade loosened in her surprise. The Royal Ivalician Lion's Guard had a reputation for being the most skilled swordsmen of all the nobility, outmatched only by the legendary 'Thunder God.'

"I don't think so. He doesn't carry himself right and I don't think a knight of the royal guard would be out plundering abandoned monasteries." Gwyff had a hand on the hilt of his weapon, ready to draw it at the first sign of trouble.

"Mae uncle was of the Lion's guard, he gave this armour ter mae as a gif' when Ah lef' Goug." The giant man strolled over to his weapons and began reattaching his various sword belts. "Now what wou' the lot of ye be doin' in a place like this? It's not a friendly place, what with all the bandits roamin' the countryside."

After gathering his courage, Nico spoke up. "I believe I saw your face upon the board of the watch in Dorter, you are a wanted man!" He stood in front of Construct Eight, obviously keeping his distance from the large man.

"As is yer Templar friend here, saw the bill for his arres' las' night on mae way he—bloody hell, yer all bandits aren' ye?" A look of astonishment came upon Klintain's face, but was replaced with a hearty smile. "Well what do ye know, Ah think Ah'm in luck...ye wouldn' mind mae joinin' would ye? Ah've got nowhere else ter go, an' Ah'm not exactly a patron of Ivalician law."

"This is sudden, why would we let you join us just like that?" D'Altine was wary of the man, but at the same time relieved that he was not hostile towards them.

"Ah won' draw against a lady, an' ah'm not fond of dyin'. Ye cou' also benefit greatly from my help, Ah'm goo' with a blade an' trained by my uncle as a Holy Knight." He puffed his chest out with pride, which had the effect of making him resemble a blowfish with legs, not at all impressive.

The sound of stone crumbling brought the focus of those around the hole in the floor to a rather dusty person crawling out. "You'd have to ask our so-called leader about that...wherever she is." Osrich dusted himself off, the traces of slime on his legs gleamed in the faint light. "Damn critter left goo all the way up the wall down there, made it damn near impossible to scale. Incidentally, I've found the wine cellar." He looked around him to find his companions at a battle ready stance and the man who'd tried to kill D'Altine standing armed and unharmed. "It's a bit dark in here, how about I brighten the place up?" The faint light from the monastery windows was replaced by the fluorescent glow of a blue orb produced from Osrich's pouch.

Gwyff shot a curious glance at the orb, but something else was on his mind. "Speaking of leaders, where exactly is—" He was cut off by a piercing scream from deep within the monastery, a scream that was all too familiar. "_Rosary!"_ He charged in the direction from which the scream had come, into the dark.

D'Altine forgot all about Klintain, instead chasing after Gwyff, sword in hand and ready to fight off whatever was assaulting the mage. She could hear the clatter of armour from behind her and assumed that the Holy Knight was following.

Nico shook his head out of utter disbelief in his fortune. "Construct Eight, let us see if they require aid." The lumbering automaton fell in behind him, a loud thud echoing with each step it took.

* * *

0o0o0o0o0o0

Dim light and faint shuffling sounds were the first things noticed by the young priestess Rosary as a state of wakefulness overtook her. Trying to move, she found her wrists and ankles to be tied down, an attempt to speak revealed to her a cloth covering her mouth, muffling her voice. Now fully awake, Rosary got a better look at her surroundings, noticing the dusty, worn bed to which she was tied, the stone walls with spider webs hiding the corners, an aged oak door with an inscription upon it, now worn down to an unreadable scribble, and Karunee, wearing nothing but her robe-turned jacket and wielding her sword in hand. The light cast by small candles created a giant shadow of the woman, resembling a great demon.

"It seems you're awake, good...that will make this far more enjoyable on my part." The one-eyed woman crawled onto the bed, sword trailing behind her like the tail of a demon and leaving a trail sliced into the bed.

Rosary shut her eyes in a panic as Karunee crawled over her, leaned down, and began to chew gently on her ear. She felt the woman bite a little harder, then the young priestess felt a burning pain on the side of her head as the woman on top of her bit her ear lobe off. She tried to scream, but the cloth over her mouth shut in her voice making all pleas for help futile, bringing on a feeling of sheer terror.

"Oh, don't close your eyes." The older priestess used her fingers to pry Rosary's eye open, holding a sharp knife in front of the young woman's gaze. "Let us dispose of that heavy robe shall we? It would make this so much more fun."

Rosary flinched as she felt the knife cut through her clothing, barely grazing the flesh of her neck as it made its way down, past her chest, lightly skimming her stomach, and finally reaching the end of her robe. The very same knife was used to slice the wielder's cheek, blood sliding down the polished blade like a snake in the grass. The sharp edge was brought to her face, the smell overwhelming the young woman's senses.

"If you scream, I will have to cut this short...and you as well." The one-eyed woman waved the knife over her captive's throat as a warning, before pulling the cloth away from the younger woman's face.

The knife was then held over Rosary's mouth, which was then forced open by her captor. The metallic taste of blood covered her tongue as she was forced to consume the blood from the woman above her. She shifted uncomfortably as the cloth was tied around her mouth once again to silence her; the knife was now held above her head, like a hailstone in the sky, threatening to drop at any moment. The side of Rosary's face felt like it was on fire as the blade suddenly slashed her from her hairline to her chin, then her legs began to burn as Karunee's sword came up between them and scarred the sides of her thighs. She gasped through the cloth as Karunee bit down lightly on the side of her breast and, holding her hands up, stabbed through the palm of her own hand. Upon the blade passing through her flesh, Karunee bit had bit down hard on Rosary, causing her to choke back a scream that would be wasted and gripped the leather bonds that held her down.

Karunee began to giggle, then chuckle, which slowly developed into maniacal laughter as she raised the blade high above her head and brought it down with a great deal of force into the younger woman's forearm, pulled it out, stabbed the other forearm, then pulled the knife out again. She then plunged it into her own leg, barely missing her main passage of life-blood, then brought her sword up and stabbed it through the calf of her captive, pinning her to the bed.

Rosary screamed into the cloth as blood filled her mouth, having bit her own tongue in agony. She'd lost feeling in her hands and her leg felt like it was burning, her chest ached from the bite, and her mind was in turmoil as someone she once thought was trustworthy now brutally tortured her in the closed room with no one else inside, no one to stop the burning pains.

"I can't have you drowning now!" Karunee pulled the blood-soaked cloth from her captive's mouth and closed in on her lips, sucking the blood out of the other woman, and cleaning the wounded area with her tongue before drawing back. "Such a sweet taste, such a young beauty, such a pure girl, and such a wonderful time I will have as I destroy your innocence!" The priestess' voice was distorted, hoarse from the heavy breathing as the speaker clawed at the flesh of her captive and her own. Her eye was wide open and her lips drawn into a crazed smile, showing her bloody teeth, as she leaned down and bit down once again upon her captive's breast with full force. "Come on, bring me my pleasure!"

Tears filled Rosary's eyes as the pain became more than she could bear. She writhed in agony as her captor stabbed her repeatedly in her arms and legs, and she felt the pain as the sword in her leg was pushed up towards her knee.

"Come on, just for me..." Karunee's voice sounded almost demonic now, as her throat grew dry. Then, in contradiction to herself, she spoke in a soft voice to her captive, "...scream."

Rosary pushed every ounce of energy she had left into the scream lasting for many seconds, before she lay back down on the bed, drained as hopelessness overtook her conscious mind.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

* * *

Gwyff charged down the narrow corridor, sword in hand as he searched for a sign of Rosary or what had made her scream. He came now to a thick wooden door from which light shined out underneath, partially illuminating the floor; from the other side he could hear sobs and gasps belonging to Rosary and another woman that he assumed to be Karunee. _"Rosary! Hold on, I'll get you out!"_ He brought his blade over his head, and then slashed with all his strength into the door, only to be sent flying backward into the wall behind him.

D'Altine came across him as he was rising to his feet. "Gwyff? Is this the room?"

"Damn door's magicked, but there's no mistaking it...she's in there." He hacked at the door again, only to be sent backwards once again.

The sound of two pairs of heavy footsteps alerted them to the presence of Klintain and the automaton, Nico following behind them. "Ah've got it. If ye can' bring down the door, Ah'll smash the wall 'round it!"

"Constuct Eight, help this man enter the room." Nico pointed to Klintain and the machine obeyed. Its hand retracted and a spinning drill replaced it; using the drill, Construct Eight began to tear through the wall to the side of the door creating a hole from the top of the wall, slowly to the floor.

Klintain drew one of the many blades from his side and held it parallel to the wall. The blade began to glow, and the wall in front of him began to crack, and then crumble, before falling away. "Is everything all—" The sight beyond the broken walls brought utter silence to Klintain as he found himself at a loss of what to do.

Before them, on a rotten feather mattress was Rosary and Karunee in a compromising position and a disturbing amount of spilt blood. Karunee's sword had been thrust through Rosary's leg, and had been pushed up to the knee. Rosary's robe had been slashed, her skin bore many scratches and cuts, her arms and legs had deep gashes, and although Karunee showed similar wounds, she was instantly marked as the aggressor by D'Altine and Gwyff.

Charging forward, D'Altine dropped her blade and slammed her fist into the side of Karunee's head while Nico and Gwyff rushed to the crippled form of Rosary. _"What the hell is wrong with you?"_ She was upon the woman again, lifting her by the upper part of the woman's coat, ignoring Karunee's lack of any other form of clothing. "I don't know what got into you, but this kind of betrayal cannot be forgiven."

The one-eyed priestess smiled, revealing her bloody teeth to the one holding her. "I told you all I had to claim my spoils, but you paid it no notice. Why all of a sudden the surprise? you've seen me fight, how I revel in the suffering of others...why should I be any different in bed?"

The knight slapped her before throwing her into the corner of the room. "I knew you were twisted, but I never figured you for the sort to betray your allies."

"It seems it was worse than I could have imagined...it looks like we'll have to deal with you accordingly." Osrich stood over the pair, his hands ready by his daggers. "There is a small dungeon here for dealing with heretics. I'll put her there until we figure out a suitable punishment." Osrich grabbed Karunee by the hair, brought her to her feet, and led her out of the room.

Rosary whimpered in agony, her vision was blurry and her arms and legs were numb. She could see the outline of someone in blue clothing holding something over her mouth; fearing it was the dagger or the gag, she tried to turn her head, but the most she could manage was to close her mouth. Despite her best efforts, she felt her mouth forced open and a cool liquid poured down her throat; it did not burn and it lacked the coppery taste of blood. She felt a warm feeling around her shoulders as sensation slowly returned to her limbs, could smell burning meat, taste the strange liquid's sugary taste, see flames flickering in the corners of her vision, and hears traces of conversation as her mind began to sort out what her ears received. As Rosary's vision cleared, she became aware that the one standing over her was Nico, a bottle of blue liquid was in his hands, his gloves burnt in places. Across from him, a pair of piercing gray eyes filled with concern and emotional agony gazed into the young priestess' own.

"Once she is able to walk, I will take her away from here." Gwyff gripped the torn bed sheets, fighting his own rage. "I will take her somewhere safe, where that woman can never harm her again."

"I hope you intend on coming back, without Karunee we'll be under strength." Osrich re-entered the room, a thick key in his hands and an exasperated expression. "It turns out that she doesn't like being put in a barred cell."

"What sane person would, and what are we to do with her?" D'Altine sat against the wall, watching as Nico administered a phoenix down to the wounded priestess, the self combusting feather sealing the more serious wounds. It had been only a few days, and already there was conflict between them. She put her head in her hands out of exhaustion; the shadows in the room did her no justice by inducing a migraine, making her wish she was back outside the monastery.

"Apparently she prefers a cell without any way to see out of it, I'm not sure why, but that's what she said." Osrich produced the glowing blue orb from his pouch and illuminated the room properly. "I think we'll hold her there as a sort of...permanent prisoner. We shouldn't kill her, she might be useful, and that would be far too kind." The thief shook his head and sighed.

D'Altine leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling as her thoughts ran back to her older brother Casol. He'd been betrayed too; stabbed in the back by his lieutenant and left to rot in enemy territory. She remembered the day they brought his body home, how she had been told to stay in her room but came out anyway, how the sight of his body strewn upon the cart had made her scream...it was too much for her at that age. The knight had never truly recovered from the shock of either of her brothers' deaths, she still suffered from nightmares, reliving the horror of seeing her brothers' corpses strewn out on carts.

"Ah think Ah'm in o'er my head wi' you folks." Klintain seemed to have recovered from his apparent shock. "Ah'm going ter head up an' look around,' see if Ah can fin' somethin' useful." The large man lumbered off down the corridor outside the room. A cloud of dust from the recent demolition of the wall gave his departure a sort of magickal look, as his form was obscured before he completely passed from view.

D'Altine heard a squeak and found the tiny malboro on her forearm, staring at her with its many eyes as if it was trying to console her; she poked it and it squealed in joy. She cracked a light smiled and leaned her head back. It had been a long day, and she decided she needed some sleep; she closed her eyes, and began to drift off... .

* * *

Incidentally, it turned out shorter than the previous chapter, but I felt that this was a good a place as any to stop, otherwise there would be too many words and you folks would be waiting too long. (Assuming people read this thing)

As you can see, Karunee has turned into quite the sadistic bitch, but that was to be expected. Also, Klintain's accent was originally supposed to be a Scottish one, but my inability to properly create that specific accent has mutated it into something I can't quite identify. However, I am happy with what it has turned into, and shall keep it thus

I hope you all look forward to the next chapter as much as I do!


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